Who Texts First (1)
I had a rare good Friday. Against all odds I'd managed to land a model, and along the way I'd even gotten a taste of Gyeoul's warm consideration.
Come to think of it, I hadn't said nearly enough about how thoughtful she'd been. We didn't share any classes today—maybe I should at least drop her a message?
The moment I opened KakaoTalk, our only channel of contact, something felt off.
"...?"
That was the only message since we'd swapped IDs last Friday. Of course, I was the type who treated any expansion of human relationships like a hazard, so I had no reason to fire off the first text myself.
But would Gyeoul be the same?
I'd thought we were actually connecting. We hadn't known each other long, but when it came to me specifically, she seemed to show more feeling than necessary, drawing a line of connection between us.
I'd even started to believe she might be the other half of the musk deer I'd been looking for...
But no. Looking at it now, she didn't care enough to send so much as a first message.
You're going to tell me that initiating contact isn't necessarily a measure of interest? Every girl who'd ever obsessed over me used to invent any excuse just to talk.
Even Yu Jiyeon reached out once in a while. I'd been thoroughly deluded.
There was nothing between me and Gyeoul. I'd just gotten high on a smile she gave to everyone, and to her I was nothing more—and nothing less—than a senior who happened to take the same classes.
"What's with the face? Still can't find a model?"
I ran into Jiyeon at the school cafeteria. The future I'd been daydreaming about with Gyeoul must have been written all over my expression.
"I'm just tired. And I found a model."
"Yeah? Who?"
"The part-timer at the convenience store I go to a lot."
"How old is she? Our school?"
"A year younger than us. Doesn't look like she's in school."
"..."
I explained yesterday without thinking. Yu Jiyeon started staring me down in silence.
"What now?"
"You said only this year's freshmen were allowed. She's not even twenty, and she's not a student either?"
"..."
Ah, crap... I'd been overworking my frontal lobe so hard lately that I'd forgotten to keep the story consistent. But Yu Jiyeon was already thoroughly pissed.
"Ha! So you were lying from the start? You must've been eyeing her every time you went there. I mean, if you're recommending her as an ad model, she has to be something else, right?"
"It's not like that. She got fired right in front of me—I couldn't just leave her like that..."
"So it's fine to leave your best friend hanging, but you have to go out of your way for some part-timer you met a few times at a counter? Hey, you think I'm doing this because I want to be an ad model? You were cutting me out from the beginning!"
Things were spiraling out of control. And honestly, Jiyeon had every right to feel hurt.
"I'm sorry. The truth is, I was worried you'd go there and cause some kind of problem."
"What? What kind of problem would I cause? This asshole is talking real weird right now."
"You can't just stand by and watch injustice. The advertising world is half entertainment—it's stuffed with every kind of unfairness and disgust. Even this public service ad we're doing, I don't even know how much of it is just siphoning off blind tax money. That's why."
"Th-that's what it was?"
That was about the best excuse I had. Framing the lie as not wanting her to see something ugly seemed to soften her a little.
"Then why not just tell me the truth from the start? You still lied to me either way. I'm seriously pissed. I'm not letting this slide."
"Do whatever you want... More importantly, can I ask you one thing?"
"What?"
I could feel the LEET talk coming, so I switched subjects fast. And this was something I'd been personally curious about.
"Between a man and a woman, if neither one initiates contact, that means there's no interest at all, right?"
"Isn't that obvious? If neither of them contacts the other, there's no relationship to begin with."
Is that so? Strictly speaking, I was the same—I never reached out first either.
If I clung to optimism until the bitter end: as the senior, if I never made contact, it would be hard for a junior like Gyeoul to take the initiative...
"So who is it?"
"What?"
"That girl you wish would message you first but who never does—who is she?"
"What are you talking about? I was speaking in general terms."
"You got caught lying thirty seconds ago and you're already at it again? Is it Oh Sujeong? Or the girl who lives with you in your studio? Or that convenience store part-timer or whatever..."
"Ah, fine! It's Oh Sujeong. You kept suspecting me about her, so I thought about it seriously—she's never once messaged me first."
Better to give a proper answer than make things more annoying. Besides, it was true Oh Sujeong never reached out first.
More precisely, she wanted to contact me but didn't have my number. Anyway, now that I'd said this much, Jiyeon shouldn't have anything more to pick at.
"See? I told you to be careful. Still, I'm not letting this go."
"I told you the truth—what aren't you letting go..."
"Ahem... Tomorrow morning at ten. Our study room will be free, so come and work through some past exams. It'll take a little over two hours. I'll time you."
"..."
All roads led to LEET. Fine—if that was what she wanted, I'd go all out and show her.
My score would be garbage anyway, so by then Jiyeon would drop the whole idea. Of course, the disappearance of her suspiciously intense attachment would be a little bit of a shame...
Tap... tap...
With nothing else to do, I went straight home. I lay blankly on the bed, tossing a tennis ball into the air over and over.
I was just lying there when a nagging text came from Eun-a. Looks like her feet really were on fire this time.
Tomorrow I was solving past exams with Jiyeon, so Sunday was all that was left. After sending that to Eun-a, I checked KakaoTalk one more time.
"..."
Still nothing. Of course—I'd only realized she never initiated contact a few hours ago. Dramatic change wasn't going to happen that fast.
I'd been wrong.
Just as I sometimes abused the power of pheromones until everything went to hell, I'd been so starved for ordinary romance that I'd over-interpreted her reactions.
Besides, the mate of a musk deer wouldn't be that easy to find, would it?
And of all people, a student at the same school—enrolled in the same year I returned after military leave?
When coincidence goes too far, you have to start suspecting a scam.
I wanted to cleanly shake off the lingering attachment, but the memories of the time I'd spent with her still flickered before my eyes.
As if luck like that would ever settle on me...
Jajajang!!!
That was when it happened. The sound of an electric guitar, vibrating through the walls, shook the room.
Not you again, unit 302?
Even for an old studio apartment with terrible soundproofing, this was beyond the pale for noise between units. He'd been like this since the day I moved in.
Normally he was quiet enough. But every so often he'd make a racket like he'd rented out the entire building.
Knock knock!
I wasn't the only one who'd heard. Someone was knocking on his door to complain about the noise.
Knock knock knock!
But he wasn't opening. Far from it—he seemed completely lost in the music, the riff only speeding up.
Knock knock knock knock!!!
Wait—that wasn't the sound of someone knocking on the next door. That sound was coming from mine.
Creeeak...
I opened it to find a guy with a bird's nest of hair standing there. He looked about my age—had he had a free day today?
"Can I help you?"
"I'm from 303. Unit 302... isn't it a little loud?"
"..."
It was loud, yes. But why was he coming to me in 301 to say that?
If he was in 303, knocking on 302's door would be closer. This bastard just didn't have the guts to complain himself, so he was dumping it on me.
Knock knock!!
But I had more than enough guts, so I immediately knocked on 302's door. Jajajang... the guitar faded, then creeeak... the door opened.
"Can I help you?"
A young man a little shorter than me. Medium-length hair, a high-bridged nose, and a solid build—an alpha male.
Even his voice was husky; the first time I'd seen him I'd almost been overwhelmed by the atmosphere. But that didn't work on me anymore.
"I believe I mentioned this once before, but the guitar is too loud. This is shared housing, isn't it?"
"Like I said then, I'm a rock guy."
"..."
You're a rock guy—so what am I supposed to do about that? Hip-hop was quieting down and a band boom was rising, so were the rockheads taking over again?
"That's your problem. Normally when you practice that stuff, don't you use headphones?"
"Ha..."
I made a perfectly reasonable point and he gave a hollow laugh? Out of nowhere, he hiked up the sleeve of his short-sleeved shirt and started scratching his arm.
On the forearm revealed above the sleeve was a cute little dog tattoo. And... so what?
"Let's not make each other lose face. One more time and I'll go to the landlord..."
Thud!
Without a word of reply, he slammed the door shut. Hey! I was still talking!
I went back to my room. Fortunately the warning seemed to have worked—no more noise came through.
But this was funny too, right? If you're going to put on a show of pride, see it through—if a few words are enough to make you stop, why all the bluster...
Thud-thud!!!
But that wasn't it. Instead of the guitar, someone was deliberately pounding on the wall.
Has this bastard lost his mind? I stepped up to pound back on the wall the same way. But then...
Haah... haah...
"...?"
What... is... that sound? Why am I suddenly hearing a woman's ecstatic moans from the other side of the wall?
Thud... thud... Aah! Aah!
No intention of stopping. So that was it.
This guy was getting revenge. If he played guitar, people could come complain—so instead he was torturing me with something even worse.
And whether he was taking the anger he'd built up at me out on his girlfriend, he was putting his full strength into railing her against the wall. The problem was, this was the one thing I couldn't protest.
Who was going to knock on a door when someone was just being faithful to human nature?